


No Regrets

by rexisnotyourwriter



Category: Broadchurch
Genre: Awkward Dates, F/M, First Dates, First Time, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-02
Updated: 2015-12-02
Packaged: 2018-05-04 15:36:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5339414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rexisnotyourwriter/pseuds/rexisnotyourwriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hardy becomes concerned about Ellie's growing obsession with the Sandbrook case and the effect it's having on her life. Their argument leads to an unexpected conclusion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. No Regrets

It would be five weeks on Friday since he had woken up in the hospital room, alone. Part of him expected to see Miller there, maybe with some grapes for old time’s sake, but the other part of him felt stupid for even thinking it. She came later that day though, with Fred, after she had picked up him from childcare. She had asked how he felt. He said fine, which was actually surprisingly true. Sure he was in pain, but it was from the incision mostly, and the uncomfortable bed. His heart felt better than it had in years.

Usually when he said he was fine it was less than true, and she would give him a skeptical look and try to get the truth out of him, but that day she didn’t. She started talking about Sandbrook instead, all the things she had looked into and the new theories she had since last time they had spoken. She was headstrong, much like himself, and that worried him. That case hadn’t exactly done wonders for his life. He hoped she’d be careful.

About a month had passed though and she was only sinking deeper and deeper into it. She was spending most of her time at his house studying the Sandbrook wall and drinking all his tea. Anytime he brought up that she should take a break, get some sleep, or go home for a bit she’d make up some excuse. Sometimes she said she would when she was finished what she was doing, but never did. Sometimes she said she wasn’t tired (the bags under her eyes and the amount of teabags in the bin proved otherwise), and sometimes she said she had to stay to keep an eye on him since he was still “recovering,” which was technically true, but as long as he didn’t do any heavy lifting he was fine. Her excuses got weaker and weaker as the days passed.

At first he was just concerned about her, but then things started to get worse. On a few occasions she lost track of the time and was late picking up Fred from childcare, and only because Hardy had reminded her. One time he was out and she didn’t realize what time it was until the caretaker called asking where she was. She would forget to eat some days, and when she didn’t she just had toast or something quick and less than substantial. At least she would try and make something proper for Fred.

Sometimes he would go to bed while she was still “just finishing something” and wake up to her either in a caffeinated frenzy or passed out on his couch. Fred woke up before her one morning, and he couldn’t decide if it was worth waking her or not. He ended up scrambling some eggs for them, almost half of which were flung onto the floor. When she did wake up it didn’t even seem to bother her much that she had slept late. She asked Fred if he was hungry and Hardy said they’d just eaten. She was satisfied with that and went to find where she had left off the previous night before she fell asleep.

By this night he had felt the weight of the weeks wearing on him as he watched her turn into him. She was wearing the same thing almost every day, her face becoming gaunt and sickly, her moods rivalled his, and she would just ignore him or make a snarky comment any time he’d mention his concern.

He picked up some take out on his way home from checking on Claire. It was almost nine, but he knew she wouldn’t have eaten a proper supper. It meant extra cab fare, but he was low on groceries. Plus it had started to pour outside and he just wanted food and to be back home.

When he opened the door he saw Miller as she usually was, on her hands and knees pouring over sheets and photos from the file, but then he noticed Fred leaning up against the edge of the couch almost asleep. He should have been put to bed a while ago.

Hardy closed the door loud enough for her to hear but not loud enough to wake Fred. She flinched slightly at the foreign noise but made no other move. He stood there, staring at her. She didn’t look up. He felt his blood start to boil. This was the final straw. 

His shoes squeaked against the floor as he went to drop the bag of take out on the counter in the kitchen before returning to the living room, still staring at her to see when or if she’d take notice. As carefully as he could he knelt down and picked up Fred and brought him into the spare room, which had now sort of become his. It had a playpen and toys in it, and there was a stack of books in the corner near a chair where Ellie would sometimes read to him. At least she used to. He set Fred down gently in his bed and tucked his blanket around him. He let his finger stroke the side of his head as he watched him wiggle a bit in his sleep, hoping he wouldn’t wake up.

When he was sure Fred was still sleeping, he quietly closed the door and went back to face her. Once again, he stood at the edge of the living room waiting for her to snap out of it. He planted his hands on his hips.

“Miller,” he growled.

She popped her head up innocently, like a curious squirrel, and looked at him. He was silently fuming. She was surprised smoke wasn’t coming out of his ears or nostrils.

“What?” she said.

He clenched his jaw, wanting to scream at her, but knowing he couldn’t without waking Fred in the next room.

“This has gone too far,” he said through his teeth, trying to contain his rage.

“Sorry. If you don’t like having me ‘round then I can just take the files back to my place. Bit of a task though, and I thought you’d want to keep them here, but-“

“That’s not what I’m talking about, Miller.”

His voice was rising.

“Well can you just get it out, because I think I’ve got another theory about-“

“Will you stop!”

He was yelling now and he had to tone it down. He breathed in deeply through his nose.

“Miller, look at yourself. When was the last time you did the laundry, or washed your hair?”

“God, are you really barking at me for how I look? Sod off.”

“When was the last time you ate?”

“I’m not really hungry. And I had some toast, uhm...”

“What time did you put Fred to bed?”

“It was...”

That made her stop. He saw her eyes widen and she stood up.

“ _I_ brought him to bed five minute ago,” he said with his hands still on his hips as if they were somehow trying to suppress his anger.  “He was just sleeping on the floor, and you didn’t even notice, Miller! For God’s sake!”

Now she was angry too. He’d gone too far implying she was being neglectful, even if part of her stung from the truth that was behind his words.

“That is _not_ fair and you know it. I am practically a single mother trying to take care of my child while this whole shit storm of a trial is going on and you stand there and criticize me.”

 “This has nothing to do with the trial, and you know it. You’re in over your head with this case, alright? Things are already shit and you’re not helping any.”

 “Well thanks,” she said starting to move in on him. “Maybe if you’d gotten Sandbrook right in the first place I wouldn’t have to be doing this.”

“Don’t you dare make this about me,” he snarled at her.

He was in her face now, and their voice had turned into tension-filled whispers that screamed in their own way.

“I ruined my life over this case; I lost respect; I lost trust; I lost my wife, my daughter.” His voice was starting to break, but he wasn’t going to let it.

“Yeah, I’ve heard that song before. Poor Hardy.”

She said those last two words so close to his face that their noses almost touched. He wasn’t backing down.

“Will you stop being such a twat! You care more about this case than you do about your own child and I’m not going to stand here while you piss that away!”

“Why the fuck do you give a shit?”

“Because I care about you, ok, I don’t want you ending up like me!”

The words bypassed the filter in his brain and just poured out of his mouth. They both stopped. They could feel each other’s breath on their faces, heavy and warm. He looked in her eyes trying to read her reaction to what he had just blurted out. There was surprise, and almost a hint of relief. In his eyes she saw his anger melt into vulnerability.

The next thing they knew their lips met. He pressed his harder against hers cradling the back of her head in his hand as the other found her waist. She felt his tongue flick against her lip and she opened her mouth wider to touch it with her own. Her hands gripped his arms as he guided her over to the couch. The back of her legs buckled when they found it as he stumbled on top of her.

His beard softly scratched her face and down the side of her neck as his lips wandered. She moved her fingers to the top of his collar and undid the top button, working her hands downward to the rest. His shirt was still wet from the rain, which made it a bit more challenging than it should have been. By the time she was half done his tongue had worked its way to her collarbone that was now exposed. She struggled to work one of the middle buttons out, prying her nails into the damp fabric. He could hear the frustration in her breath and lifted his head to look at the problem. His fingers grazed the tops of hers as he took over the task. It was unusually stubborn. He gave up and lifted the half open shirt over his head, trying to pull his arms free from the sleeves that clung to his skin. It took longer than it should have. He paused and looked down, but not at her.

“Miller, what are we doing?” he muttered.

“Seriously? You just snog my face off and it’s still Miller?”

“I’m serious,” he said as he moved off of her to the other end of the couch.

He was. He had no idea what was really going on in her head. Was this just a result of their emotions running high? Well, it wasn’t, not for him. But he didn’t know about her.

“I don’t want you to regret anything,” he said after she didn’t reply. “I mean it’s all a bit sudden,” she said.

He nodded, still looking down, waiting for the inevitable rejection. “Maybe we could just slow it down a tad.”

He looked up at her now, surprised. She was fiddling with her hands but looking at him, biting her bottom lip. The corners of her mouth turned up into a smile.

“Yeah,” he said grinning back at her. “Yeah that sounds good.”

“Ok.”

She slid over to him and placed a hand on his leg. He brushed some of her loose curls from her forehead and slowly pulled her head closer to his until his lips landed softly on hers. They started slow, as if it was their first kiss, but it didn’t take long before they were right back where they were moments ago.

He stopped himself as he was midway through undoing her blouse, reminded of the reason they stopped before.

“Are you sure about this,” he asked.

“Oh, shut up,” she said before pulling his face back down to hers. He continued to unbutton blindly.

“Bedroom?”

“Yeah.”

* * *

She woke up with his arms wrapped around her waist and his beard nuzzled against her neck. It was a nice feeling. She turned back to look at him to see if he was awake. He was still sleeping, a faint yet clear smile of contentment spread across his face. She didn’t want to get out of bed, but she knew she should check on Fred. Carefully she slipped Hardy’s hands from around her and let them rest on the bed before treading softly to the spare room.

He was sound asleep and miraculously still had his blankets on him. Most mornings she found them discarded to one of the corners. She touched the side of his face gently with the back of her hand as Hardy’s words came back to her from the night before. He had been right. She’d gotten too wrapped up in this and the consequences were already starting to show. How could she have been so stupid?

She kissed her fingers and placed them on Fred’s forehead before going back to bed. When she got back to the bedroom she found Hardy awake.

“Morning,” he smiled at her as he propped himself up, leaning against the headboard.

“Morning,” she replied unenthusiastically as she crawled back under the covers.

“Hey,” he said placing a hand on her back. “What’s wrong?”

“You were right,” she said through trembling lips.

_Oh, shit. She did regret last night. Fuck._

“About me, and Fred, and bloody Sandbrook,” she continued.

He was relieved for a moment before the guilt of his angry words washed over him.

“I needed a distraction, from the trial, from Joe, from what my shitty life had become.

The tear that was building in the corner of her eye fell down her cheek.

“Ellie,” he said as he put his arm around her and drew her closer. “It’s ok,” he whispered.

She sniffed and wiped her eye with the back of her hand.

“I shouldn’t have said what I did.”

“Well you were right.”

“Ok, maybe I was, but I shouldn’t have gone off like that. I just-“

“Care about me?”

She finished his sentence with the words he said to her last night, the ones that started it all. This.

He looked into her eyes.

“Yeah,” he said. “I do.”

He reached his other arm around her and just held her, rubbing her back as she let out the last of her tears.

“Thanks,” she said after they pulled apart.

 After a silence she laughed.

“What?”

“Oh nothing. I was just thinking I never thought I’d end up in bed with my boss. Well, ex-boss, but you know.”

“Are you gonna start calling me ‘sir’ again?” he teased as they snuggled back under the covers. “I wouldn’t mind that.”

“I’m not going to call you sir,” she said swatting his chest.

He giggled, a proper giggle. That was a first. But she supposed there was a first time for everything.

 


	2. One Step Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hardy decides to ask Ellie out on a date after they spend the night together.

He would’ve made pancakes, or at least scrambled eggs, but the only thing he had resembling breakfast food was half a loaf of bread, so he settled for toast. The take out from the night before was still sitting on the counter when he walked into the kitchen, but he could smell it from a distance. Fish and chips didn’t keep long. He opened a window hoping the smell would disperse before she got out of the shower. The bread was loaded in the toaster; he’d wait until she was done before putting it down. Every so often he would glance in the living room to make sure Fred was ok. He was busily making some sort of tower out of blocks.

Hardy heard the water shut off as he was setting the table, and a few minutes later she entered the kitchen in the same clothes as the night before, fresh faced and hair damp. She looked at him in his pyjamas (a sight she never thought she’d see) and grinned. Her eyes turned to the table and her grin grew wider. On it were two nearly empty jars of jam, one purplish and one red, along with peanut butter, a small container of Vegemite, and a dish of butter.

“I didn’t know how you liked your toast so...” he said, leaning against the counter.

She took a seat at the table, still grinning. He pushed the bread down in the toaster.

“You eat this stuff?” she asked, holding up the container of Vegemite.

He scrunched up his face and shook his head.

 “It was left here.”

“You ever tried it?”

Hardy looked back at the toast. He had set it to medium, but he didn’t trust it not to burn.

“Unfortunately, yeah,” he replied.

She chuckled. So did he.

“I had an Australian roommate one year at school; he put it on everything. He made sandwiches one day smothered in the stuff. I drank nearly half a carton of juice to get the taste out of my mouth.”

They continued laughing as Hardy turned around to get the toast that had just popped up. He put two slices on each of their plates.

Ellie reached for the peanut butter. Hardy grabbed the purple jam.

She didn’t know why, but she found it a weird discovery that Hardy had gone to school, that he’d done anything other than being a detective, really. 

Their laughter subsided as they each tended to slathering their toast. The silence was comfortable, but that faded the longer it went on. The question of “what now” hung in the air between them, neither daring to vocalize it.

The sound of Fred’s block tower crashing down broke the silence. They both turned their heads instinctively to where he was. Their eyes met briefly before turning back down to their plates.

“Ehm,” Hardy started. “So-"

“Yeah.”

“So...”

“That happened,” Ellie said.

They both let out an awkward laugh of relief.

“Yup,” he said with a smile. “It did.”

The glow of last night washed over them, and the comfortable silence returned.

“What are you doing tonight?” he asked.

Her head perked up.

“What? Round two?”

He rolled his eyes jokingly. That’s not what he meant, but he wouldn’t be opposed.

“I was thinking of dinner,” he said.

“Oh.”

She hadn’t been expecting that. 

“If you want to, I mean,” he added quickly. “I just thought-”

“Bit backwards, isn’t it?” she joked.

“Yeah, ‘suppose it is.”

“I’d have to see if Lucy can watch Fred,” she said after a moment.

“Right, yeah. If it doesn’t work, that’s fine.”

His eyes were fixed on a blob of jam that had fallen into his plate.

She smirked; his awkwardness was rather endearing.

“I’ll let you know this afternoon, okay?”

“Okay, yeah,” he said, trying to sound casual before stuffing the last bite of toast in his mouth.

Fred’s rebuilt tower came crashing down again.

“I should probably get going.”

She stood up from the table, picked up her plate, and reached over to grab Hardy’s.

“No, no. Leave it. It’s fine,” he protested.

“Oh, shut up,” she said, grabbing his plate and bringing them to the sink.

Hardy was already trying to figure out what they would do tonight, if it worked out: where they would go, what type of food, should he get flowers, and if so what kind? He had been out of the game for a while, and his last time at bat went less than smoothly. The memory made him cringe. 

After the table was cleared, Ellie packed up Fred’s toys and brought him outside to the pram. Hardy leaned in the doorway as she buckled him in.

“I’ll let you know about tonight,” she said once Fred was secured.

Hardy nodded.

They stood there for a moment, looking at each other, then at the ground, not quite sure of how to say goodbye now. He leaned in a bit; she wasn’t sure if he was going for a hug or a kiss. One of his arms extended and gave her a pat on the side of her shoulder.

“Get home safe, Miller,” he said.

He wanted to punch himself as soon as he saw the look on her face when the words left his mouth. 

“Will do,” she replied, puzzled at his goodbye.

When she was gone he closed the door and immediately buried his face in his hands.

_Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck._

 

Hardy spent the better part of the morning trying to figure out where to take her, if it all worked out. He narrowed it down two options, both outside of Broadchurch. There wasn’t much in town, and he’d rather go somewhere they wouldn’t risk running into anybody. He looked up the menu for the first option; the names looked promising, but each of the dishes he thought he wouldn’t mind had at least one ingredient he detested. Restaurant number two was more to his liking: a nice looking authentic Italian place. That’s where they’d go, if she could, of course.

He checked his phone again to see if he’d missed a call or text (even though it wasn’t on silent). He hadn’t. Hardy let out a long exhale as he put his phone back in his front pocket. It beeped. He took it out again and saw a text from Ellie.

[Fred’s taken care of. What time tonight?]

His stomach jolted.

[6 ok?]

He waited.

[Sure. Should I come to your place then?]

_Fuck._

He hadn’t thought about getting to the restaurant. It didn’t seem right to make her drive.

[I’ll pick you up.]

He waited again.

[With what?]

[I’ll get a cab]

[Oh don’t be stupid. I’ll drive.]

He thought it over. Maybe he could rent a car. He hadn’t driven in a while, but it was just like riding a bike, right? Then again, he never learned how to do that...

[Fine.]

[Pick you up at 6 then ;)]

  

Ellie knocked on his door at two past the hour. Hardy had been ready and waiting for fifteen minutes already, just to be on the safe side. He picked up the bouquet of flowers he’d bought earlier and answered the door. The shop had a wider variety than he’d thought, and he had no idea what she liked; he couldn’t even tell the flowers apart.

She smiled when she saw the bouquet in his hand when he opened the door. It was composed almost entirely of orange flowers. 

“Hi,” he said. “Ehm, these are for you.”

“What, no chocolate?”

His face dropped.

“I’m kidding,” she laughed.

“Oh, right.”

“Because when you-”

“Yeah,” he said, forcing a laugh.

He looked at her properly for the first time and consciously made sure his mouth hadn’t gaped open. She was wearing a floral patterned dress of pinks, whites, and browns. The short sleeves draped over her shoulders like petals, and the fabric followed the curves of her silhouette perfectly. 

He smiled and held out the flowers. Her fingertips brushed gently on top of his as she took them from him. His stomach turned.

 “What happened?” she asked.

She was pointing at the bandage on his finger.

“Oh, it’s nothing.”

He didn’t want to tell her he’d burnt his finger trying to iron his suit for tonight.

“Shall we?” he added quickly.

They got in her car, which looked cleaner than usual.

“Oh, um, can you...” Ellie said, trying to figure out what to do with the flowers.

“Here, I can-”

“I’ll just put them back here.”

“Right, ok.”

She lay them down gently in the back seat so they wouldn’t roll around.

 

Mercifully they got to the restaurant without getting lost. Hardy had the directions on his phone just in case. 

“Ooh, this looks nice,” Ellie commented as they got out of the car.

Hardy began second guessing his choice. Was it too nice?

The inside wasn’t quite as fancy as the exterior suggested, much to Hardy’s relief: red tablecloths with small candles, and the rest of the decor was modest but nice.

“Hardy for two,” he told the hostess.

He thought he saw her trying not to smirk.

“Just one moment,” she said before she left.

They were a bit early for his reservation.

“Have you been here before?” Ellie asked him.

He shook his head.

“Me neither.”

They both scanned the rest of the restaurant. Most of the tables were set for two or four, and there wasn’t a child in sight. It was almost entirely couples. He wasn’t sure if that was comforting or concerning.

“Oh, shit,” Ellie whispered, turning her back to the tables.

“What?” Hardy asked, turning as well.

She hesitated.

“Maggie and Jocelyn are here.”

“Really?”

He moved to turn around, but she grabbed his arm rather forcefully.

“Shh.”

“Sorry.”

He sighed.

“What do you want to do?” he asked.

“Fuck,” she muttered. “I don’t know.”

“We can go somewhere else.”

“Yeah. Yeah, alright.”

He opened the door for her. 

“Mr. Hardy,” the hostess called.

“Sorry, something’s come up,” he said, careful to keep his face down.

“Have a nice night,” she said, clearly confused, as they walked quickly out the door.

They got in the car, still stunned from the unexpected presence of familiar faces outside of Broadchurch.

“So,” Ellie said.

“So, ehm...”

“We’ll just go somewhere else, yeah?”

“Sure.”

She turned the car on and pulled back onto the main road.

“There’s got to be another Italian place here.”

“It doesn’t have to be Italian. Whatever you like." 

She scoffed lightly.

“You’re pickier than I am when it comes to food.” 

He would defend himself if it weren’t true.

They drove past a row of neon signs, mostly ethnic restaurants.

“Let’s see,” Ellie said. “There’s Chinese.”

He crinkled his nose.

“Sushi?”

His disgust was audible this time.

“Fine. Nothing exotic. Chicken joint?”

He stared blankly.

She rolled her eyes.

“Right, well, I’m going to keep driving back through town. Stop me if you see something that doesn’t make your face do that thing,” she said, waving her hand in front of her face.

He turned to her, his face scrunched up.

“What thing?”

“That! That thing!”

Her finger was almost touching his nose.

Hardy relaxed his face and turned out his window in hopes of a tolerable dinner option. He didn’t have much time to look however; a few block later they had left town and were on their way back to Broadchurch. 

Ellie hadn’t said a word since; Hardy could feel his palms begin to sweat. Maybe she was just going to take him back home.

“I didn’t think anyone would be there,” he said. “At the restaurant. That’s why I picked it.”

She detected the guilt in his voice.

“It’s fine,” she replied lightly. “How were you to know they’d be there?”

They passed the Broadchurch town sign, but Ellie didn’t take the turn to go back to his place.

“I’m starving though,” she added.

He thought for a moment she was taking him back to her place, but she passed that turn as well.

A few minutes later he realized where they were headed. A spot they had gone to sometimes, usually just for take out.

Ellie parked and was about to get out of the car. Hardy didn’t move.

“Aren’t you coming?”

He hesitated. She wasn’t catching on.

“We can’t both go in,” he said.

“We’ve been here before. Together. It’s not like it’s a romantic Italian restaurant; it’s take out."

His eyes gestured to her outfit. She looked down at herself.

“Oh. Right.”

They sat there awkwardly, each trying to figure out what to do next.

“You look nice, by the way,” Hardy said.

“Nice?” she said.

“I mean,” he fumbled, staring at his lap. “Very nice.”

She raised her eyebrows, clearly having fun with his nerves.

“Stunning, actually-”

She smirked.

He looked up at her.

“Oh, shut up,” he said, finally catching on.

“You look nice, too.”

He half rolled his eyes.

“So shall you go on or shall I?” she asked.

“It’ll look weird if one of us orders two things.”

“Weirder if you do than I.”

Again, he had nothing to argue against.

“I’ll go. What do you want?”

“Ehm...”

He had no idea, but he knew he had to take some of the initiative of this night back.

“I don’t know what I want. I’ll just go,” he said, moving to get out of the car.

“You didn’t even ask me what I wanted.”

He turned to her, the slightest smug smile on his face.

“Fish and chips?”

She tried not to grin.

“Yes.”

“Be right back.”

 

Hardy returned with two containers in his hand, one a bit smaller than the other. The smell of fried oil filled the car when he got back in.

“Which one’s mine?”

“We’re not eating in the car.”

“What? Why not?”

He made that face again, but stopped himself when he saw her start to smile.

“Fine.”

Ellie started the car and drove to the pier. There were only a few people there, and no one either of them recognized well enough.

Hardy handed her the larger of the two containers as they walked to the bench they’d usually sit at. The sun was just starting to disappear behind the horizon. 

She watched as Hardy opened his container, curious as to what he’d ordered.

It was chips. Just chips.

“I thought you didn’t like those?”

He shook his head.

“I don’t like the fish. I wasn’t really supposed to eat fried stuff, because of, you know-"

She pointed with her plastic fork to his heart, her mouth already full of chips.

“Yeah. Probably still not supposed to, but-”

He stuffed two chips in his mouth.

Ellie smiled.

“You rebel.”

He couldn’t help but laugh.

“Bad to the bone,” he said dryly.

 

The sun was barely peeking out from over the water when Hardy grabbed both of their empty containers and tossed them in the bin.

He saw her rubbing her bare arms and quickly removed his jacket to drape over her.

She looked up at him and laughed.

“People still do this on dates, don’t they?” he asked jokingly.

She smiled, a bit sadly.

“I don’t know. It’s been a while.”

“Yeah,” he said knowingly.

They sat there, perfectly content, as the salty breeze cooled them. Hardy undid the buttons on his cuffs and rolled up his sleeves. He moved to rest his hands on the bench.

Ellie looked down at the one nearest hers and ever so gently outstretched her pinky finger up against his. His hand flinched, surprised by the unexpected touch.

She laughed.

He could feel his face growing flush.

_Idiot._

“Didn’t mean to startle you.”

He gently shook his head.

She stared at him a moment, marvelling at the contrast between the man in front of her and the one from the night before.

He looked back at her and placed his hand on top of hers, his fingers resting in the spaces between. Her thumb softly rubbed the edge of his finger. They smiled at each other before turning to watch the last bits of light fade behind the ocean, her head resting on his shoulder.

 

She could’ve fallen asleep on the bench, but she had to bring him and herself home. All Hardy could think about in the short drive back to his place was how the goodbye would go. Anything was better than this morning, he supposed.

Ellie got out of the car with him when they arrived and walked him to the door.

“This was really nice,” she said. “Thank you.”

“Yeah, it was.”

He stood there, waiting for the right way to lean in, when he felt her hands on the sides of his face bringing him down to her lips. His hands found her waist, the silky material of her dress sliding beneath his fingers. Her arms wrapped around his neck, their bodies pressed together.

Only their lips parted. Ellie rubbed her nose gently against his.

“Goodnight,” she whispered.

“Goodnight,” he smiled.

He kissed her. Slower. Softer.

“Night,” she said again, removing her arms from around him.

“Get home safe, Ellie.”

She smiled.

“Will do.”


End file.
